My Closet of Characters
by Apelles
Summary: Syaoran comes out of my closet to talk to me. Meanwhile, I try and ignore him.


"You know, you really should be doing your math,"

I turned around in my desk, and there was my muse in all his glory; a tall skinny frame with ugly pants and an ugly shirt to cover it all up.

"Oh, it's you." I said. I turned around to the computer, again. "You know, normally my muses aren't supposed to appear here in reality."

Syaoran looked at me, shrugging. "Well, yes, but than again, this really wasn't your idea. You read that superman fic, you know, the really good one in your favorites section? Now you're basically copying that idea. You really should stop writing down whatever it is you're writing."

"I'm not writing anything."

"Yes, yes, you are."

"No..."

"Oh, stop that. I'm part of your mind. You really think I don't know what you're doing? Stop that writing."

"Why? This is a different situation. I'm not contemplating what happened on 9-11. I'm not looking for any answers from you. How's this copying?"

"Apelles, you really are slow, aren't you?"

I gave him a shrug back, though I really did care.

"That's your problem, Apelles. You have these great ideas, but they are not really your own. You write in different styles all the time. You look to better writers and try to come up with the same formula. That's not really what you want to be like, is it?"

"Oh, come on. This is...er...who cares! There are a few good writers, but not really."

"Some people would say different."

"So what's it matter? I'm experimenting; I'm trying on different hats. Why else would I be here on the internet in the first place? I'm not even using my own name!" I cried out of respect for my own ego.

Syaoran looked displeased with me. "But you chose the name. Therefore you must have some pride in it. And yet, you are not really pushing yourself to the limits. You say I'm your muse, but do I inspire you to try something different from all the other Card Captor or Tsubasa writers? Apparently not."

"Yes!" I said, "You do, you do. I wrote that one chapter, the one where I explored your sexuality, didn't I? That's different. That's new."

"No, it wasn't really. I was still with Sakura, wasn't I?" I nodded. "So how's that different from anything else you've written?"

"Oh, come on, I think you're being too hard on me. I'm not about to make Kurogane some pervert who likes young boys." I looked into his brown eyes, similar to my own.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." Syoaran leaned against the door to my room. "Ever read Shakespeare? He was pretty good at what he did."

"People copied him." I retort.

"And he copied from those before him. But what sets him apart is that he was his use of the language. When he didn't have anything to look at, he made it up. You should do that, Apelles."

"Make it up?"

He gave me a deserved scowl. "You have a lot more resources, don't you? Those big history books on your beside table," he nodded his head back to where my lone mattress was. "And those psychology books you're so interested in?"

I narrowed by eyes at him, wondering if he was serious.

He continued without noting my expression. "What I mean is, Apelles, you have to do more to set yourself apart. You do have to do some reading, write some histories of whatever. You may never use it in your writing, but at least its there, right?"

"You're wasting my time," I said.

"You like history, don't you?"

I did not reply, opting for a small silent treatment.

At this Syaoran narrowed his eyes at me. "I would not be here if I wasn't needed. I should actually be somewhat mad at you. You've incapacitated me in your main story, and you haven't had much use for me in your other stories so I'm just hanging around in your mind."

"Go bother someone else."

I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He came closer, looking at the random things around my room. The TV, the pictures placed kindly in large frames, the broken spines of beloved books. He would glance at them all with a look of disinterest as he took one small step closer to where I was.

He wouldn't leave. I suppose I should have expected as much. After all, I am out of ideas.

"Apelles, why don't you finish your stories?" He had taken a seat on the floor, crossing his legs over one another. "I mean, why don't you continue them? Have you lost interest?" Then, with more dignity, "Do I not interest you anymore?"

I spun around and looked at him. "No! No, of course not! I haven't lost interest, how can you say that?" I did feel hurt, partly because of my pride, but mostly because it was true, if only slightly.

He nodded his head in understanding, though I do not know to which part he was nodding to. Silence settled between us; for him, it nestled around his shoulders, curled up like a cat. For me, it had long fingers around my neck, inching close. I felt the need to say something, though what I did not know.

Lucky, the choice was taken from me. "You know, I know how it is hard to continue something,"

Guilt laid her eggs within me as I listened to him. "I know how hard it is to want to do something amazing, but when you can't, you feel like a failure." He was not making any eye contact with me, staring into the space of my room. "And with everything else that is going on in your life..."

I looked at him for the first time tonight; his ragged shirt that was speckled with an assortment of mud and dirt; his pants that had been torn at the bottom where they ran along the ground, trying to keep up with his legs. The eggs within me began to hatch, and I lowered my head.

"But you know, in some ways, I think I have it easier than most authors on this site." The abruptness of that made me look up. "After all, I am in everyone's imagination. But more so, I don't have to deal with anything other than what has been written for me."

"But all you do, it's downright awful what you've been through!" I said, feeling guilt's fish prick the walls of my organs. "Any one of us would probably lose our minds if we went through what you did."

"What's to say I haven't?" This was the first bit of humor he had said all night. I did not think he had it in him. He smiled. "Apelles, all I have to go through is the mission laid out for me by Clamp. I never have to deal with college payments, car trouble, friends, or parents. Ha! Parents!" Again, there was that odd show of humor. "Parents don't have any place in a series like this, ever. Wanna know why?" I nodded.

"Parents aren't romantic. They've lived their life and there's never a point for them. They make things too complicated, putting restrictions on you and loving you at the same time. I don't ever have to deal with that. But," He paused, picking out the words.

"But what?" I asked.

He shook his head, discarding whatever it was he thought about. "Never mind, it was stupid."

"Oh."

He uncrossed his legs, getting ready to leave, I expect. "Apelles, basically, what I'm trying to say is that, don't get put down by a failure, or two, as your case may be." He had tried to say three witty things tonight. I wondered if that ever happened anywhere else. "But continue. And give yourself a break."

Now I let out a guffaw. "How am I supposed to do both?"

"You deal with real life. I'm there with you, sitting in the back. But eventually, finish what you started. It'd do you more good than not." With that, he got up from my floor and dusted himself off. I watched him walk back to my closet, where I assumed he came out of, and pause by my bookcase once more. "Do you mind if I take one of this?"

"Uh. Sure." I said.

His fingers slithered along until they came to a thick spine, pulling the book out and tucking it under his arm. He then opened my closet door.

"You live in my closet?"

He looked at me, surprised to find me stunned at this. "What?" He said. "Where else would I go? It isn't like you pick the best places to store us characters. Kurogane is worse off then me."

"Oh? Where is he?"

"In your kitchen. Third cupboard on the right. You normally think of him as having this immense hunger, so you put him there." I did not know that. I told him so. "It's okay. He likes the coffee you make in the morning. And your dog's pretty nice to him, though she likes to bark at him when he comes out of the cupboard."

Who knew, I thought. "Where's everyone else?"

Syaoran let out a sigh, impatient to read the book under his arm. "They'll come to you soon, I expect. I don't know where you put Fai. Someplace warm, I hope. Sakura's in the closet with me, but she's on the side with your sneakers. She likes your red ones, by the way. You don't need her as much yet, but I've heard some rumors you're thinking of using her in a big story."

"Yeah." I replied. "I thought of it yesterday. Nothing more than a sentence right now."

"Well, I hope that works out." He opened the door again, then paused. "As long as you finish the two stories you started with me in them, right?"

I let out a small laugh. "Of course. I'll work on them as soon as I finish my math."

His thin lips curled upwards into a true smile, though that was probably my mind's doing. "Good. See you later, than." He disappeared into the closet, leaving me alone with my computer.

I stared at the screen for a while, wondering if I should write anything down. I glanced at the clock and grimaced. Syaoran was right. The real world needs my attention, and my math was still undone.

I gave another sidelong glance toward my closet, its doors firmly shut.

"Tomorrow," I said, "Tomorrow."

Author's note: I am not too sure where this came from. I've been bogged down alot with my real life, and been unable to really continue any of my ffnet stories. In here is an apology of sort, along with just what I was thinking at the time I wrote this. Having conversations with the characters and actually writing them out is more fun than I thought.

But, as I said at the begining of the story, I must give credit where it is due. In my favorites section, close to the bottom, I believe, is the original story where I got this idea from. Not only does it exceed mine in every sense, but since it is so close to 9/11 when I post this, I thought it would be fitting to direct people to that story. It's called "Heroes" by Darkmark, who has written 25 other stories in various genre, and is far too under appreciated. 


End file.
